


and sometimes living's too hard

by softtofustew



Series: two halves of one heart [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Day6 - Freeform, Dowoon is mentioned, Fluff, M/M, Teacher!Jae, Teacher!Sungjin, Teacher!Wonpil, side jaehyungparkian, sungpil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softtofustew/pseuds/softtofustew
Summary: the one where sungjin and wonpil have a mutual relationship complaining about their trouble-making students and staff gossip over marking graded assignments and a couple of beers shared together - until one too many turns the tables for both of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**BREAKING NEWS**

Mr Park SungJin And Mr Kim WonPil Caught In Mid-Dinner Together - A Staff Affair????? by Yoon Dowoon

 

**_______________**

 

as sungjin awakens, eyes threatening to shut back to sleep, his senses gradually come alive. in a split second, he realises a couple of things:

one, this certainly isn’t his room. his sheets aren’t this soft, his ceiling isn’t a light baby blue. his clothes are _definitely_ not piled into a heap on the carpeted floor. his curtains couldn’t have conformed into shutters, keeping the first morning rays of light out. sungjin’s head spins.

two, there’s someone in his arms. his arms are wrapped around a lithe, small torso, brown hair tickling his nose. when sungjin’s vision clears of sleep, he focuses on the eyelashes framing the man’s shut eyes, the gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his small lips as he breathes softly through his mouth. sungjin’s heart stammers.

three, his mind is absolutely killing him. a pain shoots up in a throbbing ache throughout sungjin’s head as he tries to trace back to the why’s and how’s of the aforementioned two happenings. _what the hell happened?_ he thinks. as his mind readjusts to the unfamiliar atmosphere, sungjin recalls the events of the previous night.

he smiles a little to himself, before leaning closer to press again the body beside him. he snuggles close, taking a deep breath of the man in his arms, before allowing his eyelids to fall shut again. the memory of the previous days replays itself in his dreams, lulling him back to sleep.

 

**_______________**

 

“sungjin-ssi,” wonpil calls for his colleague, whose head is in the pile of tests needed to be graded. the latter lifts his head to cast a look at wonpil. in his hands is his phone, him frowning at the phone screen. when they lock eyes, wonpil thrusts the phone out for sungjin to see.

he drops his voice to a somewhat overdramatic hiss. “do you think… it’s true?”

“are you looking at the school gossip blog again? i swear that thing posts pure bullshit,” sungjin groans, but stands and takes the device from wonpil anyhow. the skin of their fingertips graze slightly - sungjin almost admonishes himself aloud for picking at such a miniscule detail, but his heart races all the same. his eyes land on the phone screen.

_College Heartthrob Brian Kang Caught Flirting With Lit Prof???? Scandalous!!!! by Yoon Dowoon_

“is that… jaehyung-ssi?!” sungjin almost screams, but wonpil shushes him hurriedly. sungjin’s eyes bug out at the sight of his colleague caught in a grainy frame with another shorter, broader figure.

“the very one,” wonpil responds, retrieving his cell phone, eyebrow raised. “looks to me that we’ve got a rather skeptical affair in our hands.”

“what the hell,” sungjin breathes, before promptly pressing a hand to his forehead. a sigh tumbles from his lips. “it’s that yoon dowoon boy again, isn’t it-”

“-the very one-”

“-who sleeps through my lectures? brilliant,” sungjin finishes off. he can feel the headache coming alive, burning its way throughout his mind. “i should tell him to take it down before the boss slaughters jaehyung-ssi. it’s probably something created from nothing.”

a slow grin forms on wonpil’s face. as sungjin watches, he’s reminded of how fond the other looks, how boy-like he looks, despite being a whole 26-years-old, crinkles evident in the corners of his eyes when he smiles. he’s reminded of the other’s playful demeanour, the other’s playful touches whenever they converse casually - honestly, it’s too much for sungjin, sometimes. “how about we don’t and see what happens?”

“what,” sungjin raises his eyebrows, surprised, “do you mean?”

out of the blue, wonpil leans closer. sungjin is rooted where he stands. hot breath runs cold down sungjin’s ear as wonpil whispers quietly, “let’s see if it’s real or not - i sometimes see the both of them together, too.”

sungjin’s eyes widen, before turning his head slightly to lock gazes with the other. in that moment, his heart stutters a little - wonpil’s eyes are a bright darkness, eagerness and innocence gleaming off of his pupils, his lips turned upwards in a boxy grin. he tries to recollect himself before responding with a hesitant, “isn’t that… i don’t know, illegal?”

wonpils shrugs, before shifting his weight - the space between them pulls apart again. “i mean, it’s cute - like one of those novels you read.”

the other man can’t help but laugh. “such a sappy romantic.”

“exactly why i chose to teach a bunch of crack-headed adolescents,” wonpil teases, winking. sungjin has to get himself together before the air can get knocked completely out of his system. his stunned expression must be etched onto his face, for wonpil giggles, pinching sungjin’s cheek, before walking off. (“class in three, gotta fly. see you!” he’d thrown over his shoulder gleefully.)

 

**_______________**

 

honestly, it isn’t _sungjin’s_ fault he’s practically head over heels for the illustration major - it wasn’t like he _asked_ for a newbie prof to suddenly grace the scrubbed marble floors of the staffroom, but then wonpil decided to strut inside himself, swinging the glass door open in all his beauty - and promptly smacking sungjin in the head. when a flustered wonpil had tried to ease the bruise by rubbing circles against sungjin’s skin, eyes traced with concern, voice a saccharine honey: sungjin had fallen. hard.

so hard that every miniscule movement felt tainted with death: every time wonpil leaned closer, every time wonpil handed over a pen or a mug or whatever other excuse sungjin’s mind concocted just to feel the gentle brush of skin against skin, every time wonpil gazed at sungjin all wide-eyed, stars almost sewn into his eyes  - sungjin was a complete goner.

all in all, it’s not exactly helpful that he’s a grown-up, a whole 2 years older than the man himself. in actuality, he feels like a teenage boy mooning over his crush, trapped in the body of a double maths major.

so. _so_.

he’s packing up for the day, mind absolutely fried at the prospect of exam season beginning in less than two months - he’s so fucking _thrilled_ , even. just as he shoves his students’ papers into his leather satchel bag, a figure appears right beside him. surprised, sungjin glimpses up to match jae’s sheepish stare on him.

alright, alright, backtrack: jae’s one of the few teachers that sungjin actually converses with (other than said colleague crush, per say) - mostly they talk about what music artists or bands they’ve been listening to lately, but the chattering usually stops around them. he can’t be bothered by all those half-assed poetry jae thinks are the best literary reads ever. (how can someone make oak wood sound invigorating in the slightest bit? exactly sungjin’s point.)

“sungjin-ssi-”

“-look who it is, the heartthrob stealer,” sungjin chuckles tauntingly, bumping his shoulder against jae’s. jae turns even more flustered at his colleague’s words.

“please, please, _please_ don’t breathe a word of this to the others - all the other profs are too ancient to even blink at the blog - i beg of you, sungjin-ssi,” jae pleads, voice wrapped in desperation, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. sungjin tries to keep his laughter in. he’s never heard jae call him formally before, up until now.

he can’t help it. he chuckles lowly, before slapping a hand firmly on the other’s back. jae almost lurches forward from the sudden contact. “i’ll keep my lips locked - if you tell me the truth.”

“truth?” jae sputters. “the truth is that that’s not the truth. t-the blog by that kid. i swear to god, whose idea was it to-”

“-jaehyung-"

“-okay, okay, fine!” jae rolls his eyes, dramatically throwing his arms out, flanking them sideways. an exasperated sigh leaks from his chapped lips. “okay… maybe there was _some_ truth to the blog. fine, fine, i’m caught guilty-”

“-how much older are you even?-”

“-not that much-”

“-i beg to differ, jaehyung-ssi,” wonpil cuts in smoothly, voice slick, saccharine. sungjin grips his satchel tighter as wonpil struts over, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair ruffled by the slight breeze as he walks. goddamn. “nine years is a bit much, isn’t it?”

“mind you, he’s twenty this year,” jae retorts. he sighs, pressing a hand to his forehead dramatically. “i have no fucking idea what to do with my life now. people, fan me: i just wanted a job as a lit professor making shakespeare fun. i didn’t sign up to get bamboozled by my student.” (wonpil interrupts him here, blurting, “who uses the word bamboozle anymore?” “surprise bitch, _me_ ,” jae retorts back.)

sungjin arches an eyebrow. “when we both submitted our resumes together two years back, didn’t you say you, and i quote, ‘want to make out with a hot college kid in the janitor’s closet’?”

jae keeps his mouth shut. a hot blush fills his cheeks.

“holy _shit_ ,” wonpil gasps, breathless. “the three of us are going to go out - and you are going to spill everything.”

 

**_______________**

 

they don’t bother with heading home first - the three of them, all esteemed professors from the same prestigious college, stroll down the pavements of seoul to their favourite hangout restaurant. sometimes, when wonpil’s at the edge of breaking down from hours of preparing presentation slideshows on the theoretical purposes of graphics, or when jae’s cursing to no end about marking twelve-page essays on the effect of drama use on a mere 16-line playscript, or when sungjin’s cracking his head on how to make his monotonous lectures actually sound interesting: the trio head downtown to crack a few beers and cheer to several chicken drumsticks.

“i swear, there’s not much to it,” jae sighs, before taking a rather vigorous bite out of his chicken. after swallowing, he adds, “look, like - he’s hot, you know? like, i wish i was, i don’t know, born a couple years younger or something. i have the hormonal tolerance of a sixteen-year-old, i swear.”

“don’t all of us,” sungjin voices flatly, before taking a swig of beer, the cold liquid burning marks down his throat. he plonks the mug down with a clumsy thunk, earning glares from other patrons. he doesn’t care, honestly - being drunk for sungjin means ignoring the small details that always seemed to bother him. he likes the feel of that, likes the boldness surging in his veins as he casts a sideways glance at wonpil.

wonpil delicately eats his chicken, lips pursed to blow air across the meat to cool it. (how much sungjin would give to kiss them.) the younger’s attention flits back to the conversation. “i mean, jaehyung-ssi, first thing is: do you like the guy? or just, i don’t know, just wanna fuck him?”

the obscenity falls drunkenly, and sungjin’s heart contracts.

jae laughs at how innocently wonpil forms his words. “i don’t know, man, honestly,” he replies, sighing once again. “he’s… his analogies are so. well. well-written-”

“-did you just drag school into this topic?-”

“-he’s my student! what do you expect, man?” jae groans. he takes up his mug to glug down the contents of it.

sungjin shrugs. “perhaps… his personality?”

“fuck me, he’s perfect,” jae grumbles, his eyes shut. he sways his body to the rhythm of the sultry song playing in the background of the dimly lit restaurant. “let me just tell you, when he started flirting with me? fucking hell, man. he sent me straight back ten years of my lifetime. and-”

sungjin starts to tune out - honestly, his eyes are only on wonpil, the man’s eyes wide with wonder and curiosity whilst jae drones on and on and on about aforementioned heartthrob. sungjin smiles unconsciously, his eyes wandering down to the fingers drumming against the pine table…

“sungjin. sungjin-ssi,” wonpil’s voice snaps sungjin out of his daze. when sungjin comes to, he can't tear his eyes away from his colleague quick enough. wonpil notices. a small, shy smile forms on the other’s face, lighting up his expression.

sungjin's mouth is clamped shut as wonpil giggles, eyes still locked onto each other. they almost seem to forget jae until jae clears his throat rather loudly.

“i’m sorry to cut the lovefest, but we’re currently talking about mine, so could we please stay on track?”

sungjin’s face warms, the heat coursing everywhere as wonpil giggles, pushing jae a little. “shut up, man. we’re not in-”

“-love?” jae counters smoothly. he tries to arch an eyebrow, but his wasted state only allows him to blink with so much effort. “yeah, yeah, that’s what i’m trying to tell myself too. you know, denial gets people nowhere.” he frowns at his words. “maybe i should stop denying it? It’ll get me to worse places, right? like, if i keep denying myself, i might end up old and graying and thinking, ‘damn, if only i asked that hot piece of ass from my lit class to date me’. right?”

sungjin and wonpil exchange knowing glances. jae keeps blabbering on.

“maybe i should stop denying myself. fucking loooord,” jae giggles. definitely the beer speaking, sungjin thinks as he takes another sip of his own drink, watching from the corners of his eyes. jae claps, suddenly all the more energised. “i loooooove him. soooo much. have you seeeeen his eyes? he looks like a fox. but, like,” jae hiccups, “human. and sexy.”

“okay, i think that’s too much alcohol for you,” sungjin cuts in, but wonpil taps his shoulder lightly. when the older glances at him, wonpil shakes his head, a small smile on his lips.

“let him be,” wonpil mouths, before sinking back into his chair. his eyes hold onto their gaze for a while, before breaking eye contact to laugh at jae, who’s grinning widely, cheeks almost bursting as he babbles on and on about his oh-so-lovely star student. sungjin almost doesn’t notice the arm shooting up, and wonpil’s voice practically singing as he calls for another round of beers.

sungjin sinks into his seat, his eyes already getting droopy from one and a half drinks. this is going to be one, loooong night.

 

**_______________**

 

it’s just past 11 at night when the three of them finally stumble out of the restaurant, jae clinging onto a lamppost whilst wonpil giggles, his steps slippery as he walks. sungjin seems to be the least wasted, having drunk much less than either of them. his mind isn’t in its clearest state, either, but he knows one thing: that he’s much, much much more sober than the man bursting into song about heartbreak in the middle of the deserted walkway.

wonpil almost trips, but sungjin catches him on time, arm already flanked out to break his fall. the beat of the night is familiar: jae will take a taxi home, sungjin will accompany wonpil back to his apartment on the bus first, because the younger is a light-headed one, and sungjin’s scared someone will harm the pretty one. (jae can take care of himself.)

“stay safe, hyungieee,” wonpil drags out, small smile on his face. he leans against sungjin’s side, an arm wrapped around his torso - it takes every living cell in sungjin not to combust into flames right there and then.

jae grins, swivelling around, and knocking his head against the lamp post. “fuck!” he screeches, clutching his throbbing head. Instead of helping him, the duo watch on from a distance, muffling their giggles. “fuck, that hurts like a bitc- brian?”

sungjin and wonpil freeze. a car parked at the curb blocks their view, but only slightly, for they can make out a mess of black hair atop someone’s head, close to jae. he’s walked from jae’s direction, almost barrelling into their colleague.

the both of them instinctively crouch low, backs pressed against the car. snatches of voices are heard from behind the vehicle, hiding them from view.

“songsaengnim!” a low voice cracks out of the blue. “w-what are you doing here?”

“sungjinnie,” wonpil’s voice whispers across sungjin’s ear. the younger is pressed up close against sungjin, closer than ever. sungjin hopes he’s not close enough to hear the racing heart pounding rapidly against his chest. “we should go.”

“yeah,” sungjin replies weakly. together, the two of them casually emerge from behind the vehicle. thankfully, the two are caught in a spiral of a conversation themselves, too busy to notice their presence and immediate absence. the duo hurriedly walk down the paved walkway to the bus stop a stone’s throw away.

throughout the whole walk, wonpil clings onto sungjin, fingers curling around the older’s wrinkled work shirt - sungjin tries not to let it show. he’s kept his feelings under control for so long, so well - this isn’t the time to act against his conscience, when really what he wants is to drag wonpil to the nearest alley and kiss him against the wall.

no, he’s not going to. nope.

when they arrive at the bus stop, wonpil sits, pouting. “sit heeere,” he slurs, swaying slightly. sungjin relents, sliding to seat beside wonpil. the younger’s head lays on sungjin’s shoulder, warmth emanating in waves from their bodies.  

on the streets, cars whiz by, the sound of it ripping through the cool spring night air. crickets chirp somewhere. overhead, the sky is overcast with dark blues, black, stars glittering in places. quietness settles in a hush, blanketing the two men, until wonpil starts speaking again.

“sungjinnniieee,” wonpil giggles. he buries his head the crook of sungjin’s neck. the grip on the man’s shirt tightens. “sungjinnniiieee, come home with meeeee.”

sungjin blushes. “why?” he asks. his voice is soft, gentle. he boldly caresses the hair at the nape of the younger’s neck. wonpil hums.

“i’m so tiiiiipsy, what if i get kidnapped?” wonpil whines. drunkedness does its effects on everyone - for wonpil, it meant clinginess, desperation to be held like a baby. on one hand, sungjin thinks it’s adorable. on another, he thinks it’s satan in its purest form. (again, objectively speaking. surely someone can relate to him, right?)

and because sungjin holds a heart of gold, he relents - how can anyone say no?

 

**_______________**

 

“wonpil, just one more step-”

“-carry meeee-”

“-oh my god,” sungjin grumbles, heaving the younger closer to the door of his apartment room. when at last they reach the sleek metal door, sungjin glances at wonpil, who’s practically almost out cold in sungjin’s arm. “where’s your key?”

“front pocket,” wonpil murmurs softly, his eyes hazy now. sungjin bursts into a red blush again. his fingers lightly skim the hem of the younger’s jeans, fiddling to search for the pocket. he frowns. he tries to reach around the man’s other hip for the front pocket. no pockets.

“there’s no-”

“-oh, sorry,” wonpil chuckles, his voice lower now. sungjin tries to calm the heart drumming away violently as he carefully feels for wonpil’s back pocket. he reaches for one side - nope, no keys. at this point, sungjin’s in mid-hug with wonpil as he stretches his arm out, hand fumbling for the keys.

_shitshitshitshit-_

wonpil leans close, lips pressed against the skin of sungjin’s ear. sungjin can’t help but gasp aloud. “if you just wanted an excuse to touch me, you could’ve just asked,” he teases, his voice dropped low, luscious, lightly brushing sungjin’s hair. the letters are caught in sungjin’s throat. he pulls away slightly, his eyes wide as he scans wonpil’s serious expression, the small smirk on his lips. _fuckfuckfuck-_

“kidding,” wonpil laughs. he detaches himself from sungjin’s hold on him, reaching around for his back pocket himself. he retrieves the keys and slots them into the keyhole, all the while his gaze still on sungjin. the corners of his eyes are crinkled in the warmest of smiles. “you take jokes like these tooooo seriously, sungjinnie-hyung.”

“hyung?” sungjin repeats, slightly surprised.

“hyungie,” wonpil blabbers, shoving the door open. usually, this is where it ends - sungjin will bid wonpil goodnight, will walk back to the bus stop, will take the five-minute ride to his own apartment loft. but wonpil tugs on sungjin’s sleeve, pouting. “hyungiieee, tuck me in.”

sungjin sputters, “how old are you?” but lets wonpil drag him inside anyway - the room is small, made even smaller when wonpil shuts the door close with a thud, locking it. the click of the lock sends a flurry of emotions washing over sungjin.

“tuck meeeee in,” wonpil mumbles, swaying in his steps. sungjin supports him, traipsing along until they reach his bedroom door. sungjin throws it open to reveal the bedroom: clothes are thrown carelessly on the floor in a pile, sheets unmade, canvas lopsided on its easel, paints stacked on the boy’s tiny workspace. sungjin frowns.

“sorry, haven’t had time to sort it out,” wonpil responds, as if reading the other’s mind. his hold on sungjin remains firm and steady, even as he plops himself down onto the mattress. “tuck me in.”

“alright,” sungjin mutters quietly. he unravels wonpil’s slender fingers from around his sleeve, setting the younger one onto the bed. he slips off wonpil’s shoes, before taking up the sheets and placing them gently over the man’s body, up to his chin. wonpil giggles, eyes half-shut now, lips pulled upwards in a grin.

before sungjin leaves the room, wonpil’s voice catches him again. “sungjinnie.”

“yeah?”

“about what jae said… the lovefest thingie-”

“-mmhm?” sungjin hums. his blood runs cold and hot all at the same time.

“maybe he’s right.”

it’s as if the air is stripped of its nature - sungjin stands, mouth open, staring at wonpil. the man’s gaze travels to the surprised look on sungjin’s face.

wonpil’s smile lifts. “go out with me tomorrow.”

is sungjin hearing right? is he hallucinating?

“call me tomorrow. i’ll probably forget. bus stop?” wonpil chuckles, eyes now closed. “go out with meeeeeeeee.”

it disheartens sungjin, knowing the younger’s probably sleep-talking, the alcohol running in his veins talking the talk for him. sungjin still steps closer, leans down, and bravely brushes his lips on his colleague’s forehead, murmuring an ‘okay’ against the soft skin there.

 

**_______________**

 

_ding!_

 

**wonpillie** [07:45] i wasnt kidding

**wonpillie** [07:46] nine at the bus stop ok for you?

 

**sungjinnie** [unsent] oh my god are you serious

**sungjinnie** [unsent] i love you

**sungjinnie** [07:59] yeah. sure. ok. see you.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“sungjinnie?” a murmur resounds. sungjin’s eyes peel open. the sun filtering through is of a warm, golden colour, streaming through the little cracks of the drawn blinds. the man in his arms shifts, turning so their faces barely brush against each other. sungjin warms up.

sungjin grins, glancing down at him. “yeah?” he whispers, voice low and graily from sleep. his fingers play with the hem of the other’s shirt as their eyes meet sheepishly. the other blushes bright pink, the colour a dusty mist splayed across his cheeks. the other doesn’t say a word, instead pressing his nose against the fabric of sungjin’s own shirt. he takes a deep breath. in, out.

they stay like this for a long, long while. as they do, sungjin smiles to himself. he hits resume, and the memories unfold before him in his head.

**_______________**

 

“sungjin-ssi!” sungjin wants to pee in his pants so, so,  _ so _ badly at the sound of that voice, high and melodious and tinkling in the spring air. he’s sat at the bus stop, palms sweaty against his thighs. a bead of sweat rolls from his forehead, down the side of his face.  _ holyshitthisisactuallyhappeningholyshitholyshitholyshit- _

he hopes he hasn’t overdressed - he’s clad in a shirt, sleeves rolled up to add a bit of flair. he’s styled his hair a little, without adding too much gel; he doesn’t want to give a ‘this-is-my-first-date-in-forever-so-i’m-so-fucking-nervous’ impression on  _ the _ love of his life. he takes a few breaths, in, out, inoutinoutinout, before wiping the last of the sweat off on his pants and looking to his right.

the breath is almost knocked out of his very body as wonpil saunters over. no hint of drunkenness exudes from the man as he runs a hand through his hair. sunlight glints off of his eyes, bright, wide, gleeful. sungjin almost keens over at the sight of him: flanked in a simple tee that shows off his pretty arms, jeans clinging to his legs, casual in converses.  _ be still, my heart. _

when wonpil finally reaches, he slides in, seated arm-to-arm with sungjin. (if he leant any closer, sungjin thinks the other could even hear how fast the lovestruck’s heart was beating.) “i thought you wouldn’t show,” wonpil states matter-of-factly. his smile is fond, radiant. clearly, it doesn’t do anything to save the man’s nerves.

sungjin laughs dryly. “well. i take whatever you say seriously, so..”

“but i was drunk. you still heard me?” now wonpil’s cocking his head sideways, looking at sungjin, as if he’s seeing the man for the first time. sungjin gulps.

“well, yeah.” he clears his throat. “um. why wouldn’t i?”

sungjin swears he sees something pass wonpil’s irises, those damned eyes almost transcendent. he still can’t adapt to the younger’s habit, of him looking at people, whoever they were, with earnest, with utmost interest, almost with the softest of love. but the moment passes, the bus squeaks to a halt before them, and the glimmer in the man’s eyes disappear as quickly as it had appeared.

he doesn’t even realise he’s dragged up to his feet until he feels the warmth of the younger’s palm in his, fingers interlaced tightly. “c’mon,” wonpil says gently. the corners of his eyes crinkle. “let’s go.”

 

**_______________**

 

sungjin doesn’t even second-guess about how planned everything is: from the second they step into the bus to now. they’re both seated, side by side, in the dim light of the cinema, and sungjin finds it so hard to process everything at the moment. how wonpil had handed over the cash to buy tickets for the latest marvel movie, how wonpil had pouted those (irresistable) lips at the older to buy salted popcorn, to how wonpil had giggled and asked sungjin to pose with him next to a cardboard cutout of ant-man, and how wonpil had held onto sungjin’s hand, firmly, throughout the whole trip to the cinema.

to think sungjin has to survive the rest of the day makes him want to fling himself out of the window and splatter across the sidewalk, rather than to deal with his heart picking its pace every damn time wonpil leans over to grab a handful of popcorn.

when the ads roll and the only light emitted is from the huge screen, sungjin subtly turns his head to wonpil. the light bounces off of his eyes, his placid smile fixed across his face, his slender fingers coated with salt.

what he doesn’t expect is for wonpil to turn his head before sungjin can face the screen again - and they’re caught red-handed, staring at one another. sungjin’s frozen in place, too scared to turn away as wonpil’s eyes widen. he imagines he could swim in those pools of the younger’s pupils, those eyes piercing through his soul and burning him alive.

before sungjin can part his lips, though, wonpil chuckles, pinching sungjin’s cheek. before sungjin can even have a thought about the grease across his skin, wonpil leans in (the movie hasn’t even started!) - and plants a quick kiss, daringly, on the corner of sungjin’s lips.

_ holy fucking lord bleeding on a popsicle- _

“you’re cute when you think that i can’t see you, when you’re looking at me,” wonpil teases, tone soft and hushed. with that, he turns back to the screen, satisfied, leaving sungjin in a hot, blushing mess.

the rest of the movie is a blur to sungjin. he can’t focus (how can he focus?) when wonpil’s fingers wrap around sungjin’s pinkie playfully halfway through the movie. when wonpil leans over to rest his head on sungjin’s shoulder.

when wonpil turns his head when the credits roll, empty popcorn bucket between them, presses his hands on either side of sungjin’s addled head, and kisses him square on the lips.

white noise fills the older’s head. this can’t be real. (but it is.) this can’t be happening. (but it is.) sungjin doesn’t second guess like he does with everything else, instead pulling wonpil closer, hands cupping the boy’s (man’s) cheeks. sungjin can’t think of anything else (how can he?) except how soft and warm wonpil’s lips are, how he tastes of salt and soda and sunshine, how he whimpers quietly in between the fondest of kisses.

when they do pull apart, wonpil flicks sungjin’s nose tauntingly, startling him out of his daze.

“sungjinnie babo,” he singsongs, before kissing him again.

for the first time in his life, sungjin doesn’t mind being called an idiot - as long as he can be  _ wonpil’s _ idiot.

 

**_______________**

 

the day is a haze of emotions, tumbling from the movie, to lunch by the park, to walking around aimlessly, hand-in-hand. sungjin’s heart hasn’t stopped pulsing crazily, like one would in a wild goose chase. the way wonpil swings their linked hands back and forth creates tumultuous somersaults in the other’s stomach.

dinner is yet another affair - they’re sat opposite each other in a western diner, sneaking glimpses at each other while scanning the menu. they end up sharing some lasagna and salad, with wonpil trying to spoon-feed the older, sungjin laughing as he rejects the offer. as adorable as it is, the man is immovable.

when the laughter dies away, sungjin smiles at the other. the letters form words at the tip of the man’s tongue, but before he can allow them to spill past his lips, wonpil beats him to it.

“today was really nice with you, sungjin-ssi,” wonpil begins slowly. the fork in his hand twirls around the remaining strands of the spaghetti. “it’s the most fun i’ve had in a while.”

sungjin bites back his grin. “same here, i guess. i haven’t been on dates ever since i finished uni, honestly. it still feels surreal-”

“-because i’m god-sent?”

“yah,” sungjin breaks into fits of chuckles, throwing a napkin jokingly across the table. it lands on wonpil’s resting palm. “don’t be so cocky.”

“you’re only saying that because i  _ am _ god-sent,” wonpil taunts, before stabbing his fork at the salad. 

“whatever,” sungjin dismisses nonchalantly. his heartbeat pounds in his ears. “wonpil ah.”

wonpil looks up from his plate and hums. “hm?”

“why?” the word is quiet, hesitant. sungjin timidly meets wonpil’s eyes on him. “why did you-”

“-ask you out? okay.” wonpil sets down his fork, clasping his hands together. “i have a whole speech in my head, so give me a moment.”

the hummingbird in the cage of sungjin’s chest only flitters about more violently, thrumming under his skin. “okay.”

“i… i like you,” wonpil chews on his lower lip. “i won’t deny that. i also won’t deny that i didn’t know how to ask you out. i mean, it was kind of clear that you seemed to feel the same way-”

“-i wasn’t that obvious-”

“-yes, you were.” wonpil raises an eyebrow. “you kept asking me how i was doing, asking me for favours, asking me to eat lunch with you, asking me if i get home safely, asking me literally  _ everything _ . like i said, i see the way you look at me, sungjin-ssi. it’s not exactly discreet.”

a warm blush paints itself across sungjin’s cheeks.

“but i didn’t know how to ask. then yesterday, i didn’t want to keep going on with this and pretending like it was nothing. i hate waiting. i’ve waited for so long.” wonpil’s voice wavers slightly. “i didn’t want to wait until you asked me. and jaehyung-ssi kind of indirectly encouraged me too. i didn’t want to deny myself.”

“so you asked me out,” sungjin finishes, breathless.

“yeah.” wonpil grins shyly, the tips of his ears hot red. “i’m just going to ask you something-”

“-anything-”

“-can we go out again? some other time?” the younger’s lips tug upwards. “if it’s alright with you, of course.”

sungjin’s own lips involuntarily pull upwards, too, smiles matching. “i’ve been waiting for a long time, too. wonpillie, ask me out again.”

“tomorrow?”

their feet tap against each other under the scrubbed pine table. they don’t notice the boy sat across the diner, cap pulled surreptiously over his eyes, watching with interest as sungjin purses his lips. “tomorrow it is.”

 

**_______________**

 

when monday comes around, sungjin struts into the staffroom, smile positively radiant. he’d spent the weekend at wonpil’s, days filled with kisses and cuddles and binge-watching the most hilarious of comedies wonpil had on cable. so, in his daze, he almost bowls over jaehyung, whose eyes are fixated on his mobile phone screen.

“sungjin-ssi,” jae hisses at the man. arching an eyebrow, sungjin turns to face the other. jae’s eyes are blown wide as he leans close, voice timid. “did you happen to, i don’t know, go out with wonpil-ssi this past weekend?”

sungjin frowns. “why do you ask-”

his eyes land on the latest blog post, flashing on the screen of jae’s phone. right there, smack dab in the middle of the online article, is a rather grainy photo - but it’s  _ clearly _ him and wonpil, staring into each other’s eyes. splayed across the top is an ever-so-discreet title, screaming,

 

**BREAKING NEWS**

Mr Park SungJin And Mr Kim WonPil Caught In Mid-Dinner Together - A Staff Affair????? by Yoon Dowoon

 

sungjin’s eyes widen. “what the actual fuck-”

jae retrieves his cell phone, but instead of shooting questions at the younger, he simply pats sungjin’s shoulder. “very suave, sungjin-ssi. very suave. i guess you finally manned up.” with that, he throws a wink at a rather speechless sungjin, before stalking off. sungjin has to keep his exasperation in as he watches his colleague walk off shamelessly, hips swaying with the new revelation of a true staff affair.

a voice rings out from behind him. “sungjin-ssi?”

sungjin swivels around to face wonpil. wonpil looks at him, eyes curious. “did you-”

“-see the blog? yes, i did, and it’s absolutely-”

“-horrifyingly scandalous?” a sly grin spreads across the other’s face. he nudges sungjin with an elbow, before scanning the vicinity. quickly, he plants a small kiss on sungjin’s cheek. he pulls back and giggles as he watches the red colour fill the other’s cheeks. “i wouldn’t mind, honestly. I feel like i’m part of a secret life.” the younger mimes 007, causing sungjin to laugh. “as scandalous as it is, i really don’t mind, though, as long as it’s with you.”

and if wonpil doesn’t mind, sungjin doesn’t mind, either.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the first instalment of the series! this second chapter was more sentimental than action, just a look into their date and hinting at what comes after. the next one will be focused on jae and brian, whose relationship i hinted at in the previous chapter *wink wonk*
> 
> yodel at me:  
> twt&cc: softtofustew_

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/softtofustew_) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/softtofustew_) // [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/softtofustew)


End file.
